


Somewhat Normal Life

by Taverl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taverl/pseuds/Taverl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While it wasn't idyllic, he had to admit he was happier now with his somewhat normal life than he had been in many years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhat Normal Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written and first posted in 2003.
> 
> First-time fic, but it was my first first-time fic, so that makes it OK. ;)
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Hugs and kisses to a Beautiful Bevy of the Bestest Betas in the Business: Carrie, Buffy, Kelley, and Cathy - you *rawk*. :-) Special thanks to Blue (I'm not worthy! ), Sybil and the folks at Haven, and those who've been kind enough to send feedback.

"Somewhat Normal Life"  
by Octavian

 

"Mmmmmm...pointy."

Mulder chuckled absently as Homer Simpson devoured the plastic bride and groom from the top of a wedding cake while Marge looked on, horrified at the synthetic carnage. Continuing to listen with half an ear, Mulder worked on just-one-more-final-last-this-is-it-I'm-really-done-this-time rewrite of his latest article. The editor at Omni had been breathing down his neck for a week, warning him that if he missed this deadline, they'd never accept another one of his submissions. Mulder took this with a grain of salt, knowing that M. F. Luder was one of the magazine's most popular contributing authors. In fact, the first installment of his crop circle exposé garnered more attention than any other report in that issue, giving him the ability to negotiate for a substantially larger fee. And if Omni didn't like his commitment to journalistic perfection, New Science and Scientific American already numbered D. Fulmer's pieces among their most popular and would certainly be glad to have his best buddy M. F. join their ranks.

Sometimes, Mulder thought with a grin, it's good to be me.

Besides, his writing and research had to be done during his off hours, and those were hard to come by in the X-Files. These last two cases had kept him away from home for much longer than he'd expected, and it was only with Byers' help that he hadn't come home to a tank-full of backstroking mooreheads and mollies. Despite his long absences, he usually lost only a couple of fish a year and he didn't plan to set any precedents now. His dedication to proper fish maintenance meant that he had to give the tank a thorough cleaning, as well as do laundry and catch up on his bills, before he could sit down and finish the second part of his examination of crop circle phenomena. 

Referring again to his notes and the photos he took on his last expedition to England, he thought of the circumstances surrounding his first, failed outing across the pond. Scully had certainly been in rare   
form that week.

No, he had to admit to himself, she'd been a bitch.

Though she might not realize it, he understood her frustration, understood fully what it was like to stand there, the first third of your life behind you, and wonder just what the hell you'd accomplished in the preceding three-plus decades. But he also understood that Scully was the smartest person he knew, and if she wanted to talk, if she needed a change, if she just wanted to get the hell out, she would. So, to listen to her snap at him like a fishwife, complaining about her lot in life as if he had forced it upon her...well, to say the least, it surprised him. But that surprise could not hold a candle to the shock she gave him upon his return, when she wove a tale of an affair with a married man, psychic healing, karma, lesbians - he'd paid particular attention to that one - and, finally, a message from God Him or Herself in a Buddhist temple.

He still wondered why the Supreme Deity would choose a place of worship for a belief system that had no supreme deity for such a revelation, but he kept that to himself. Besides, he had found an answer to his life-long search for his sister in "starlight." And just as the closure he'd found as a result of that experience had helped him come to terms with many of his issues, she seemed to have found a similar peace in her spiritual encounter. To each his or her own epiphany.

However un-Scullylike her experience may have been, it certainly had helped her open up a bit, just as his had done for him. They laughed a little more readily, were more at ease with each other, actually bantered with humor and a smile rather than derision and a scowl. It was almost like the old days when she was wet behind the ears, full of rational theories to counter his intuitive leaps, but still willing to listen with an open mind. And while they would both always carry with them the close calls and tragedies they'd experienced over the years, that weight seemed to have lessened.

Hell, she was even dating again.

Mulder looked up from his laptop to give his eyes a rest and glanced at the VCR's readout, taking a moment to bring it into focus. Just after 10:00. He wondered if Scully and her date were racking 'em up for another round of pool or if she was already tucked snugly into bed - and, if so, if she was there alone. The thought didn't exactly thrill him, but she was a mature adult and deserved to have fun as much as the next person. And while his dates had been few, he hadn't exactly been a monk, either.

United States Marshall Kevin Marshall had worked with them on solving a particularly convoluted series of disappearances in rural Virginia last month. Unlike other law enforcement officials in their experience, the unfortunately-titled Marshall Marshall had welcomed their assistance and worked hand-in-hand with them to finally solve the case. His quick wit and easy intelligence made him a valuable part of the investigation and Mulder had liked him immediately. But Scully had liked him more, and the feeling had obviously been mutual. While the young, light-skinned African-American cop didn't seem to fit what he thought of as Scully's "type," he was a far sight better than any of the other men Mulder was aware of her having dated. She seemed to be of the same opinion, and last week's lunch and a matinee had led to dinner and billiards tonight.

It didn't occur to him to be worried about a potential romance between his partner and her eager suitor. Even if a relationship did develop, Mulder knew that, in the end, he and Scully would be together. This certainty wasn't based in arrogance or pride, unlike his confidence in his ability from the free-throw line (86.7% lifetime average, thank you very much). He simply knew that Scully loved him as much as he did her. The knowledge was basic: the sun rose in the east, it set in the west, and Scully loved him. And even though the conspiracy they'd uncovered over the years might mean the long-term viability of the first two were questionable, the third was never in doubt. He'd made his feelings known, though Scully was obviously not ready to hear them at the time. 

No matter. When she was ready, he'd be here. 

In the meantime, he concentrated on enjoying their growing ease with one another, and finding a little peace in between battling monsters, conspiracies, and FBI budget cuts. And he occasionally availed himself of the company of a member of the single female population in and around the Beltway. While it wasn't idyllic, he had to admit he was happier now with his somewhat normal life than he had been in many years. Shaking off these musings, he returned his attention to his writing.

Less than an hour later, he had emailed his article to the editor, complete with insincere apologies for his lateness and even less sincere assurances that it would never happen again. Having changed into a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, he was reclining on the couch when a knock on the door interrupted his channel surfing. While he wasn't unused to late-night visitors, most of them never bothered to knock before violating his rights in various and sundry ways, so he naturally assumed it was Scully. His assumption was proven correct when he opened the door to see her standing in the hall. She looked incongruous wearing her standard-issue FBI trench coat over a soft-looking black sweater and faded jeans, shifting nervously from foot to foot in her clunky black loafers.

"Hey, Scully, what's up?" Opening the door wide, he gestured for her to enter, but she merely stepped forward and leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed. Looking uncomfortable, she nibbled on the inside of her lower lip, studiously avoiding making eye contact. "Scully?" He leaned down slightly, trying to get her to look at him. "Is anything wrong?" She finally met his eyes and shook her head. While it was obvious she had something on her mind, she didn't look particularly distressed. "Did something happen with Marshall?" He tensed, wondering if both of their opinions of the man had been wrong and he had somehow upset her.

The question, his tone, or both, finally got a response out of her. "Oh, no, Mulder, nothing happened. We had a really good time, actually." She took a deep breath, as if willing herself to relax. It seemed to work, and her shoulders moved a little farther away from her ears. She crossed her arms and looked him in the eye. "It was fun."

She didn't look like a woman who had just enjoyed a "fun" evening out with a date to him. Since she seemed determined to remain where she stood, he opened the door all the way and relaxed against it, crossing his arms in unconscious imitation of her pose. "And did the good Marshall Marshall get a goodnight kiss?" he asked with a smile, trying to lighten her mood.

She grinned in return and shook her head slightly. "Unfortunately not." Her smile grew. "Head turn."

Placing his hand on his chest, he gave her an exaggerated wince. "Oh, Scully, not the head turn." While a part of him experienced a sympathetic twinge of wounded male pride, another part couldn't help but be relieved. "Hug?" She nodded, visibly relaxing as he engaged her in their version of post-date girl-talk. He eyed her warily, as if afraid of what her answer to his next question might be. "Back pat?" he asked hesitantly. Her grimace was softened by the upturn of her mouth as she slowly nodded. "Scully," he cried, in mock horror, "I thought you liked the guy and now you're practically giving him the 'Let's be friends' speech."

She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say, Mulder? He's a nice man, but there were just no...sparks."

He nodded in understanding. "So, what brings you to my door tonight, Scully?"

Her smile faded and she stared intently at his chin. "Well, I came by because I had too much to drink."

"You did?" She certainly could've fooled him. On an otherwise utterly forgetful trip to Hollywood earlier in the year, they'd painted the town and consumed more alcohol than either was used to. The sweet, tipsy kiss they'd shared at the end of the night had thrilled him and still had the power to make him smile. He clearly remembered that flushed and giggly woman who had trouble balancing on her three-inch heels and slurred her words when she spoke. That woman was definitely not standing before him now. "Are you sure? Because you sure don't seem drunk to me."

She fixed him an annoyed stare and tilted her head. "Just tell me I'm drunk, Mulder."

"Why?" He was really confused now. "I've seen you drunk...well, buzzed, before and you're not drunk."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she said, "Could you please not argue with me and just say that I'm drunk?"

Opening his mouth to ask her again what she was on about, it hit him. She was ready. After seven years of the most intense relationship either of them had ever known, she was finally ready to take the final step. But even now, she couldn't just let go, tell him she loved him, and let them get down to the business of getting down to business. Instead, she was covering her ass, giving them both an excuse in case there were any regrets. He didn't know which was more absurd: the excuse or the idea that it would be required. He smiled and couldn't resist teasing her just a bit. "But that would be a lie since you're obviously sober. What could possibly be gained by telling you you're drunk?"

Her mouth thinned and she moved away from the doorjamb. "Mulder, for once in your life could you *please* not argue with me and just tell me that I'm bombed?"

His grin widened. "'Bombed?' I seriously doubt you've been *bombed* since college, Scully. And you're still not making any sense. Coming over here after what you admitted was a perfectly good date, refusing to come in, insisting that I tell you you're drunk when you're clearly sober. Your behavior," he saw her open her mouth to interject, "while obviously not that of someone who's consumed excessive amounts of alcohol, is pretty damned bizarre." Her expression had become a definite scowl, her mouth turning down inverse to the amount his smile grew. "Did you take a cab over here, Scully?"

She seemed taken aback by his quick change of course, hesitating before replying, "No, I..."

"See what I mean?" he interrupted, warming to his point, "you would never get behind the wheel of a car if you thought you were even slightly impaired, much less drunk."

Suddenly, the collar of his t-shirt was digging into the back of his neck as she fisted the front of his shirt in her hands and pulled him toward her. "For God's sake, Mulder, would you just say, 'Scully, you are totally fucked up?' Can you do that for me without acting like I've just asked you to sign an oath swearing that the Earth is flat?"

Her eyes blazed up at him and despite the irritation in her voice, he could tell she was fighting the urge to smile. Gazing down at her, full of love and happiness, he couldn't help a chuckle as he said, "Scully, you are *so* totally fu-" before his words were stopped by her mouth covering his.

Unlike the peck they had shared after their night on the town, this kiss was passionate, sloppy, wet. Hot. Her tongue darted into his mouth, tracing his teeth and his soft palate, dancing against his tongue until it retreated back into her mouth and he had no choice but to follow. She tasted ever so faintly of beer, mixed with a thousand different flavors he couldn't define. But he planned to spend his life trying. She pulled away from him slowly and he followed, trying to maintain contact for as long as possible. When she finally disengaged her lips from his, his mouth remained in a slight pucker, ready and willing for her next assault.

Pupils dilated, face and neck flushed, hair mussed by his roving hands, lips reddened by his kisses, she was a study in passion. He suddenly wished he had some kind of artistic skill so he could record this moment for all posterity, capturing her wildness in chalks or inks or oils. Instead, he promised himself that the real thing would be his to gaze on at will from here on out instead of some pale two-dimensional likeness.

"Scully," he panted, his voice sounding strange and distant through the pounding of his pulse in his ears. She just stared at him, breathless, still holding his shirt in a death grip, looking as if speech comprehension was beyond her. He was entranced with this version of his partner, her normally razor-sharp mind dulled by passion and desire for him. It was a heady feeling. Finally, she managed to raise her eyebrows and nod in weak reaction. He brought his hands up to frame her face, his eyes boring into hers.

"Tell me I'm drunk."

She laughed with him then, throwing her head back and joining him in celebrating the wonderful absurdity of the moment. He moved his hands to her shoulders, pulling her back to him to kiss her laughing mouth. Releasing her grip on his shirtfront, she moved her arms around his ribcage, her hands running down his back, plucking at the hem of his shirt on their trip back up his spine.

After years of having his apartment besieged by everything from psychotic mutant killers to bullet-riddled informants with not so much as a peep from his neighbors, he knew this would be the moment one of them finally chose to emerge and see what was happening in #42. And what was happening currently was that Mulder had grabbed Scully around the hips, lifting her up to bring her face level with his. The small pain in his back was worth it to alleviate the growing ache in his neck. In a show of their fabled unspoken communication, she wrapped her legs around his waist. With one hand supporting her back, he staggered further into the apartment, flailing with his free hand until he could grab the edge of the door and slam it closed.

Still unsteady, both from carrying Scully's unaccustomed weight and lack of oxygen from her kisses, he let the momentum created by closing the door spin them slightly, causing them to bump against the wall next to the coat rack. With Scully securely held between the wall and his body, he let his hands roam over her legs, up her hips and under the soft fabric of her sweater to the softer skin beneath. She moaned into his mouth and ground her pelvis against his stomach as his fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts. Instinctively, he thrust his hips in response and was met with nothing but the empty air below where her legs gripped him.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, to get some air into his oxygen-starved lungs and to pay attention to her face and neck. Sucking on the sensitive skin behind her jaw, biting tenderly on the cords of her neck, covering her cheeks and forehead with small, quick kisses, all worked to drive her passion higher. Her hips continued to undulate against him and her fingers scrabbled at his sides, frantically trying to pull up his shirt even though her legs held it firmly in place. The pressure on his sides eased slightly as she loosened her grip on his waist in order to remove his shirt. In the process, her body moved south just enough to bring his barely-covered erection in direct contact her center, feeling the heat of her even through their clothes.

Her southward momentum was arrested when he thrust his hips into hers, grinding against her as if he could wear away the layers of fabric between them through friction alone. She groaned into his mouth and tightened her legs around him as his hands cupped her behind, squeezing in time with his movements. He felt something brush against his calves and dimly realized it was her shoes falling off her feet as she crossed her ankles behind his back.

Scully had managed to get his shirt bunched up under his armpits before he'd begun to rhythmically grind his pelvis against hers. Now she was digging her nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as she moaned and threw her head back. In her abandon, she bumped her head against the wall, and while it didn't sound hard enough to have hurt, it was enough to make him pause.

Scully's head appeared unsteady on her shoulders as she straightened up, blinking rapid as if she were having trouble bringing him into focus. Mulder would have worried about possible head injury if she hadn't looked that way even before hitting the wall. He stepped back slightly and put his hands on her waist, silently urging her to unwrap her legs from their clasp around his hips. Her expression was the epitome of "dazed and confused" and he leaned forward to kiss her as he felt her legs slide down the outside of his thighs. They continued kissing as Scully slid down the wall to regain her footing, and for a moment he was afraid she would just keep on going, until he realized she'd lost a few inches of height when she lost her shoes.

Once she was standing steadily, he began to straighten up, but she took advantage of his stooped position to pull off his t-shirt and toss it aside, where it caught on the hat rack. "She shoots, she scores," Mulder said hoarsely, sliding her coat off her shoulders and hanging it next to his wrinkled shirt. 

Taking her hand, he began backing toward the entryway to the living room. "Oh, I don't think I'll be the only one, Mulder." She chuckled as he stumbled over her fallen shoes because he was too busy concentrating on her face to pay attention to where he was going. 

Looking down, he kicked the offending footwear out of the way. "Gonna be a high-scoring game, huh, Scully?" he asked, smiling at her, still walking backward as they turned the corner.

"Could set a league record," she replied as they entered his bedroom, the light from the living room and the bright rays of moonlight slipping around the edges of the curtains providing the only illumination. He stopped and pulled her hand behind his back, urging her to wrap her arms around him. She complied with a smile, running her hands over his back from hips to shoulders, her fingertips skimming along the top of his ass as she slid them under the loose waist of his pajama pants. Placing a kiss on the center of his chest, she looked up at him, eyes dark and wide, smile tender, her expression full of love and desire.

"Oh, Scully, I appreciate the vote of confidence. But you *do* remember that I'm pushing 40, right?" She nodded, grinning up at him, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

She moved her hands to his face, pulling him down for a quick kiss before pushing him away slightly and looking into his eyes, a mischievous grin on her face. "Mulder, you've never let yourself be constrained by conventional thinking. That's one of the things I love about you."

He was amazed, not by her declaration, but by the effect it had on him. In spite of his previous certainty, the emotions she stirred in him threatened to become overwhelming. His smile was wide and felt as if it was stretching his face out of proportion. "Well it's about damned time," he said, his voice slightly unsteady.

He knew their game-playing days were coming to an end when she didn't pretend to misunderstand. Instead, she shrugged, a rueful smile on her lips. "What can I say? I'm Ms. Methodical," she replied in a self-  
deprecating tone.

"Ms. Methodical and Mr. Impulsive...what are the odds?" He pulled her tightly against him, sealing his mouth to hers, insinuating his tongue between her lips. She ran her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching his scalp as she held his head to hers. 

Breaking their kiss, Scully grinned up at him. "I'd say it's a sure bet." With that, she released her hold on him, crossing her arms in front of her and stripped off her sweater.

The simple dark-blue bra bisecting her torso contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin, which seemed to glow in the faint light of his bedroom. Her hands moved to the zipper of her jeans and he covered them with his own, wanting to unwrap her like a Christmas present. Even as a child, Mulder liked to extend the tease, forcing himself to go slowly, pulling the paper open at the folds instead of just ripping it off. Knowing what was inside just made it all the more exciting. This was the greatest gift he'd ever received, and despite the urgency of some parts of his anatomy, he wasn't going to rush.

Well, not much, anyway.

Resting his hands just above the waistband of her jeans, he skimmed up her torso, the tips of his fingers dancing along either side of her spine as his thumbs traced lines up her stomach. He was mesmerized by the sight of his large hands spanning her tiny waist, moving over her ribs and finally coming to rest on the satin of her bra. He dragged his thumbs across the underside of her covered breasts, watching the fabric wrinkle and shift under the pressure of his touch.

Scully ran her hands up his arms, clutching his biceps as he continued to move his thumbs over the smooth fabric, nearing the hard points distending the center of the cups. Her breathing sped up as his hands kneaded her flesh, and she moaned loud and long when his thumbs finally teased her nipples, brushing back and forth over the thin fabric covering them and running the edge of his nails around the areolas. Spurred by her frustrated sounding groan and his desire to see more, he traced his hands over the sides of her bra and around her ribs. Undoing the hooks, he slowly removed the strip of fabric, glorying in his first sight of her pale breasts with their dark rose centers.

One hand supporting her lower back, the other behind her neck, he dipped her like a ballroom dancer, making her back bow and causing her erect nipples to point upward, in perfect position for his greedy mouth. Starting with light kisses, long swipes of his tongue and gentle nips of his teeth, Mulder teased each tight peak in turn. Suckling first one breast then the other, his world was reduced to the taste of her flesh in his mouth, the feel of her hands gripping his hair, and the increasing volume of her moans.

The pressure on his scalp turned painful as she tugged on his hair, causing him to stand up, taking her with him. He was stopped from straightening up fully when she pulled his head to hers for another searing kiss. Her skin was hot and soft against him, the hard points of her nipples pressed against his chest. While their lips and tongues became reacquainted, she reached around and took hold of his wrists, moving his hands to the front of her pants. 

He didn't need to be told twice. 

Fingers shaking with anticipation and desire, he fumbled only a moment before he had her jeans unfastened and began pushing them over her hips. Scully's normally steady hands betrayed her excitement, tightening the knot on his drawstring pajamas in her efforts at loosening it. He broke their kiss and stepped back, waving her away, and started to work the knot himself before she had it so tight he'd need a pair of scissors to get his pants off. Taking over where he left off, she swiftly shed her jeans, bending over to pull off her socks and leaving her clothes in the middle of the floor where they landed. Wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton panties with a pattern of blue flowers, she walked to the head of the bed and pulled down the covers. Her enthusiasm was so great that, with one sweep of her arm, the bedspread, blanket and top sheet all ended up crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Smiling in appreciation of her enthusiasm, Mulder finally managed to untangle the truculent cord and let the pajamas fall to the floor, leaving him bare before her. He stood in the square of light coming through the doorway from the living room in all his naked and erect glory. She stopped in the act of climbing onto the bed to take her first full look at him. Other women had seen him in such a state, and his emotions at those times had ranged from uncertainty to pride, from awkwardness to impatience. But here, standing before the last woman he would ever love, all he felt was joy in the fact that Scully was the one who was gazing at him.

He knew she liked what she saw as her breathing sped up and the flush on her face and chest deepened. Walking towards her, he watched her eyes follow his bobbing erection for a moment before looking up into his face and giving him a smile that he could only describe as wicked. He could feel his smile growing to match hers and he spared a glance at her last remaining article of clothing. Immediately, she began to remove her panties, going a little slower and taking a few more wiggles of the hips that he thought strictly necessary. 

Not that he was complaining.

He gave her body the same admiring perusal she had given his. His eyes traveled over the voluptuous curves of her tiny form, trying to take it all in at once. The faint shine of wetness at the edges of the redish-brown curls between her legs made his pulse race, and he stepped forward, gathering her into his arms. They both groaned at the heavenly feeling of bare skin meeting from chests to bellies to thighs, and he joined their sounds of pleasure by sealing his mouth to hers. Lifting her off the floor while maintaining full lip contact, he fell sideways onto the bed taking her with him.

They kissed for long minutes, entwined legs still hanging over the side of the bed, while their hands roamed, eager to explore newly unveiled flesh. Tumbling, rolling, laughing, licking, biting, touching, exploring, noses bumping, elbows and knees jabbing, whispering apologies, kissing and making it better, they were like too-big kids on a too-small playground, and both nearly fell off the bed on several occasions. They rested for a moment, breathless with passion and mirth, Mulder lying between her splayed legs, his head pillowed on her breasts, while her fingers traced the planes and angles of his face.

Kissing her fingertips, he nuzzled her breasts, still wet from his attentions, and placed a reverent kiss on her sternum, just over her heart. Hearing her sigh deep in her chest, he moved down over her ribs, stopping to place small, healing kisses to the scar on her stomach from a near-fatal bullet wound. More thankful than ever that she was still with him, he ignored her insistent tugging on his upper arms and moved lower. He lapped at her navel, causing her to giggle at the ticklish sensations, and moved his lips over the gentle swell of her lower abdomen. The scent of her arousal grew stronger as he traced the line of her pubic hair and he couldn't wait to taste and smell and see what was hidden between her thighs. 

But instead of the moans and sighs he would expect in anticipation of having his mouth on her, Scully had gone from giggling to laughing outright. Finally acquiescing to her hands' insistently tugging on his arms, hair and even ears, he lifted his head and moved back up her body, his face hovering over hers. His confusion must have been clearly evident because she said, "Sorry...tickles," as her laughter subsided, and she rubbed her palm along the rough stubble on his jaw.

Comprehending, he shrugged apologetically. "If I'd known what you had in mind, I'd have shaved. Hell, I'd have *waxed*." They both chuckled. "You don't give a guy much advance notice." He bent his head to her neck, sucking at what he had discovered was a particularly sensitive spot and teasingly abrading her skin with his nascent beard. 

She laughed, pushing him away slightly. "I could say the same," she replied, running her legs over his so he could feel a very slight scratchiness, "I don't give myself much advance notice, either." 

He wasn't even aware of the shamefully natural state of her legs until she'd pointed it out, and he couldn't care less. "The obsession with hairless legs is just another example of the media, fashion and cosmetic industries' brainwashing of even the most brilliant women into trying to fit an artificial definition of what it is to be a 'real woman.'"

Her hands, which had been tracing random patterns on his back, went still. She stared at him, humor and exasperation clear on her face. "Great. I'm in bed with Camille Paglia."

He smiled and gave her a quick peck on the tip of her nose. "Not even close, but did I ever tell you I had a class with Naomi Wolf while I was at Oxford? Romanticism in Renaissance Poetry. She was very smart, but drove the professor insa-" He was cut off by her pushing on his shoulders and rolling them over.

She leaned over him, her damp curls scant millimeters away from the head of his penis, and he swore he could feel the heat emanating from the core of her body. He was hypnotized by the nearness of her, unconsciously lifting his hips in an attempt to make contact. It took him a moment to realize she was speaking again. Looking up, he saw her amused expression and was certain she knew what had distracted him. She moved her body farther forward so her face loomed directly over his. "Mulder?" Her tone was so sweet it sounded almost wheedling. His raised eyebrows were his only response. 

"Shut the hell up."

Scully forced his compliance by pressing her mouth to his just as her body came to rest atop him. Breaking their kiss several minutes later, she sat up and moved back slightly so her body hovered directly over his straining erection. Grasping him lightly, she ran her hand from base to tip slowly, as if testing out the heft and girth of his penis, and he groaned helplessly. She must have been satisfied with her findings because she rubbed the head back and forth lightly over her labia, coating him with her wetness.

His excitement spiked at the feel of wet, soft skin and rough hair sliding along his naked penis. It had been many years since he'd been in a relationship that lasted long enough to move from the condom stage to the pill stage. As a result, he had almost forgotten what a woman felt like inside without a layer of latex separating them. His hand flailed toward the nightstand, silently telling her that he had protection if she wished to use it. She glanced toward where he was indicating and then returned to look at him, seeming to read the question in his eyes. Their gazes locked, and she hesitated, apparently considering his offer. He knew Scully would have been careful in any recent encounters, as had he, but if she felt more comfortable taking this precaution, he certainly had no objections. It did give him a twinge of sadness, though, to think that her decision would be based solely on safe sex and not contraception. She had once told him that, even though she loved children and wanted to be a mother, she had long ago realized that her life was too dangerous and unpredictable to consider bringing a child into it. But that did nothing to diminish the fury and pain she felt when she discovered that the option had been taken away from her. He shared her feelings, knowing that if he were ever to consider fatherhood, it could only have been with Scully.

He could tell her thoughts had wandered in a similar direction, because she gave him a melancholic smile. She leaned forward and he propped himself up on his elbows to meet her halfway and share a slow, tender kiss. As he lay back down, her expression cleared and she moved back, taking hold of him once more. Her decision was made when she positioned the head of his penis at her entrance and began to slowly slide down, moaning as she took him into her body in increments, allowing herself to adjust.

Mulder was glad she was taking her time, because even though he wasn't huge - all rumors to the contrary - he knew he was on the upper end of the bell curve and didn't want her to be in any discomfort. Their position not only allowed her to control the speed and depth of penetration, it was also slightly less intense for him, which was a blessing since any more stimulation would have him coming far too soon. The desire to grab her hips and thrust up into her was almost overwhelming, so he fisted his hands in the sheet, kept his eyes locked with hers, and concentrated on the feel of being inside her.

He was inside Scully. This woman who meant so much to him, his partner, his friend, had opened her arms and her legs and welcomed him home. She was all those things women are and much, much more: tight, hot and oh, so wet. With a sigh, her legs loosened slightly and he could feel himself slip even deeper, wrenching a groan from deep in his chest, causing his eyes to close and his back to arch at the sheer glory of it. Consciously making an effort to relax, he opened his eyes to see her sitting still, pinned on his body, her arms limp at her sides, gaze hooded and mouth slack with pleasure.

Her eyes closed in a slow blink; when she opened them she focused on him, a brilliant smile lighting her face. Placing her hands lightly on his stomach, she dragged herself up, creating incredible friction along his cock, and kept going until he almost slipped out of her. Mulder swore he could feel every contour of the interior of her body as she slid back down his length. She paused a brief moment and then started her trip up again.

She was trying to drive him insane; that was all there was to it. 

Each stroke up and down was done with agonizing slowness, as if she was trying to find out how much he could take before he snapped. It was exquisite, but he needed more. He knew that if he touched her, he would lose it, gripping her hips and pumping her up and down on his cock, heedless of her desires. So instead he grabbed even larger handfuls of sheet, causing its fitted corners come loose, and began to thrust his hips faster, hoping she would get the hint. It would've been more direct to tell her, but his linguistic capacity had been reduced to long, low moans punctuated by startled grunts when she tightened her inner muscles around him.

Her pace sped up as she leaned farther forward, bracing her hands on his chest to give her more leverage. Her brow was creased with a little frown of concentration and her breath was becoming labored, her body covered with a heavy sheen of sweat. Whether she was nearing orgasm or simply getting tired, he wasn't sure, but he was certainly eager to help. Letting go of the sheet, he placed his hands on her pelvis and ran his thumbs through her drenched pubic hair. He felt for her clitoris, wanting to touch that tiny bud of flesh again after becoming only briefly acquainted with it during their earlier explorations.

Looking down at him, glassy-eyed, Scully shook her head weakly. "No, s'good, so good," she panted, putting her hands on his wrists and moving them back slightly so they held her hips. Taking her hint, he pulled her to him on her next downward stroke and simultaneously thrust up, wringing a groan from him and a chorus of "Yeah, yeah, God, yeah..." from her.

Figuring he was on the right track, he repeated the action, taking some of the pressure off Scully's legs as well as increasing their tempo. She returned her hands to his chest, letting him set the pace as she chanted "Yeah" and "More" and "Oh, God" and, his favorite, "Mulder," over and over. After a few moments, she sat back, changing the angle again, much to their mutual satisfaction. Placing her left hand on his right forearm for balance, she continued to match his thrusts as her right hand dropped between her legs and began rubbing furiously.

The sight of Scully touching herself as she was riding him was enough to make him lose his concentration for a moment. She urged him to keep going and he quickly resumed their pace, entranced as he watched her first and middle fingers making quick, tight circles. 

He could feel her legs trembling on either side of his hips and realized she was tiring. Tightening his hold on her hips, he put more of his strength into lifting and lowering her body in order to take some of the strain off her legs and allow her to concentrate on the motion of her fingers.

Her cries and moans became continuous, her movements more frantic, as she was obviously nearing climax. With each thrust, her voice became higher and breathier, as if her vocal cords were stretched to the limit. Fascinated, he kept his eyes glued to her face, wanting to see what she looked like when she came. 

She was beautiful. 

Her back stiffened and she curled forward slightly, her internal muscles clenching around him rhythmically as her body spasmed. She looked ecstatic, eyes clenched shut and mouth wide open, only the slightest whimper coming from her throat as she rode out her orgasm.

With a groan, she dropped onto his chest, completely limp outside and still twitching around his cock inside. Her breath tickled his nipple as she panted and she slowly raised her hand and extended a glistening finger, silently telling him she needed a minute. Desperate to find his own release, but aware that she was in no shape to continue just yet, he needed something to distract him momentarily from the heavenly feel of her body gripping him. Taking hold of her hand, he brought her wet fingers to his mouth, slowly licking from base to tip. Loving the taste and smell of her, he sucked both fingers into his mouth, running his tongue over them to catch every last traces of her essence.

Opening his eyes, Mulder looked down to see her gazing up at him from where her head rested on his chest. "Better?" he asked, his hips pumping gently against hers. She nodded, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He rolled them both over, his penis slipping out her in the process and causing them both to groan in frustration. She took advantage of the moment to get comfortable, grabbing a pillow to place under her head, while he hovered over her, his patience running thin. The sensation of the air cooling her moisture on his cock was doing nothing to cool his arousal. 

Within seconds she was reaching for him again and he settled between her widespread thighs, holding the weight of his upper body off her by propping himself up on one forearm as he guided his penis back into her body. "Oh, God..." he groaned, placing his other arm alongside her head, dropping his forehead to the pillow and taking a few calming breaths.

Even lying down, the top of her head only reached his chin, so he had to bow his back as she stretched her neck up in order for them to kiss. Peppering her forehead with kisses, he began to move slowly, giving her a moment to adjust in case of possible over-sensitivity. She signaled her readiness by thrusting her hips into his. He set a rapid pace, and she urged him on, running her tongue over his Adam's apple, nibbling on his jaw, and scooting down to nibble and suck on his flat nipples.

After only a few thrusts, Mulder felt his control slipping and he began to speed up as Scully whispered encouragements and scored his back with her nails. Leaning on one arm, he reached down with the other to pull her leg up higher on his waist. She did him one better by stretching up so her knee was just under his armpit, her heel drumming against the middle of his back each time he withdrew. With her other foot planted firmly on the mattress and her hands grasping the cheeks of his ass, she met each of his increasingly forceful thrusts with the equally strong lift of her hips. 

The pressure was almost unbearable, and he began driving into her body relentlessly, jarring her and causing the bed frame to connect with the wall with each plunge. Then he was there, his body tightening along with his balls and then letting go in one overwhelming wave of pure bliss. He cried out as his hips jerked spasmodically and he emptied himself into her. Everything he had, everything he was, he gave it all to her in that moment as he felt the release in every part his body.

His strength gave out and he fell on top of her, his folded arms the only thing keeping him from crushing her. Resting his head above hers on the pillow, he gasped for breath, pulling strands of hair into his mouth with each inhalation. Meanwhile, Scully hugged him tightly with her arms and legs, smoothing her hands over his drenched back and licking tiny rivulets of sweat from the side of his neck.

After a moment, he began to raise up in order to move off her, and she released her hold on him. His limp penis traced a wet trail across the top of her thigh and he finally collapsed on the mattress next to her. Mulder lay on his stomach, dazed, sated and exhausted, one of his legs still lying on top of hers. Mimicking her earlier gesture, he weakly raised his hand and held up a finger, letting her know that it was his turn to take a minute to regroup. 

She responded as he had, grasping his hand and tracing the tip of her tongue over the digit before sucking it into her mouth. Opening his eyes slightly, he watched her essentially go down on his finger and, when she finished, raised his middle finger hoping she would repeat the action. She did, and proceeded to give every digit the same treatment. When she had finished, she interlaced their fingers and let their clasped hands rest on the bed between them. Turning her head to look at him, she threw her other arm wide and gently pushed his leg off hers. There they lay for several minutes, serenely gazing at each other, as their bodies cooled and their breathing returned to normal.

Mulder had no idea how long they'd lain there, but when he felt he could finally move again, he released her hand and sat up to pull the sheet and blanket up from the foot of the bed. Then he lay down on his back, spreading his arms wide in invitation and covering them both when she snuggled up to his side, placing her hand over his heart. 

While he'd never been one to lose consciousness immediately after sex, he was, after all, a guy, and the hour was getting late. He tried to stay awake, figuring Scully would want to talk, but as the minutes stretched by, the only sounds their quiet breathing and the soft murmur of the TV in the other room, his lids began to droop.

He was on the edge of sleep when he felt her climb on top of him, placing her chin on the back of her folded hands, which rested just over his heart. Her legs fell open and the damp hair between her thighs tangled with his. Rousing himself, he wrapped his arms around her, lacing his fingers together on the slope of her ass and sweeping his thumbs over her lower back on either side of her spine.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head forward to meet her eyes. Her smile was wide and goofy. But he would never tell her that. He felt a similar grin stretch his cheeks. Wearing a poor excuse for a somber expression, she said, "Mulder, I'm not drunk anymore."

He decided to play along and see what she had in mind. "That's good, Scully. You don't have a hangover or anything, do you?"

She shook her head slightly without taking her chin off her hands. "No negative aftereffects. Except," she paused and looked away, her expression thoughtful, "I am a little sore." She met his eyes again, grinning wickedly. "But it's a good kind of sore."

He laughed, enjoying her playfulness. "Oh, Scully, it's the *best* kind of sore." 

Chuckling, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "How would you know?"

The Scully Brow Of Skepticism, as he thought of it, was either the most or least favorite of her expressions, depending upon the circumstances, but it had an entirely different effect on him when she was lying on top of him, naked and stuck to him with their combined fluids. 

His musings were interrupted by the drumming of her fingers on his chest as she impatiently waited for his answer. "Let's just say you're not the only one who could use a little hair of the dog that bit you," he replied with a leer.

"Already?" She looked unconvinced. Lifting her hand, she began to reach behind her as if to test the validity of his claim.

Well, he was relieved to know that sex wasn't going to change the basic nature of their relationship.

He grabbed her hand, placing a tender kiss on her palm before laying it on his upper chest near the bullet wound she'd given him so many years before. "I didn't say I was ready for it, Scully, just that I could use it. Maybe in an hour or so." He gave his eyebrows an exaggerated waggle.

"You know, Mulder, I may just take you up on that," she laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her absently tracing the smooth circle of scar tissue on his shoulder. His mind immediately recalled the sight of those same fingers circling her slicked flesh as she rode him to her climax. Despite being sleepy and sated, he felt a tingle of arousal.

Unaware of his musings, she bent down and placed a soft kiss on the wound, as if in apology, before caressing it once more with a delicate touch. "But you see, Mulder, it appears I did something rather...well...rash when I was under the influence." She glanced up at him, trying to look contrite and failing miserably.

He inhaled sharply, as if surprised by her confession, and tried to school his features to match his tone. "Scully, I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you!" She smirked up at him and snorted at his melodramatic performance. "What do you intend to do about it?" It was plainly obvious that she had no regrets about what had just happened, but he was curious as to how she thought they should proceed with this new phase of their relationship.

Once again resting her chin on her folded hands, she said, "As I see it, I have three options." 

He nodded. "And what would those be?"

"One," she briefly lifted her index finger, the back of it tapping her cheek, "I could pretend it never happened."

He gave her an exaggerated frown of disapproval. "Could you do that if you even wanted to, Scully? It's certainly not your style to just sneak away like a thief in the night and ignore the whole incident." 

Appearing to consider for a moment, she said, "You're right. So that brings me to option number two." She raised her middle finger briefly. He nodded for her to proceed. "That would be to apologize and promise it will never happen again."

"Do you really wish it never happened?" He smirked at the idea, considering she was laying on top of him, buck naked, sporadically pressing her pelvis into his. To reinforce the absurdity of the idea, he lifted his head and gave her a slow, deep, thorough kiss while his hands kneaded the firm globes of her ass.

When they separated, both breathing hard, she had spread her legs wider and her thrusts had become more rhythmic. She slowly raised her lids to meet his gaze and he could see the beginnings of new arousal in her eyes. "No, Mulder, I don't regret it in the slightest."

He gave her behind a squeeze of approval and linked his hands once more at the small of her back. "Good. Then if you have no misgivings, why would you apologize? That would be terribly insincere, don't you think?"

Nodding in agreement, she replied, "I do, so that leaves option number three." She raised her ring finger. "I acknowledge what happened, that I'm not sorry it did, and talk to the...party involved about how to make things work going forward."

He was amused by her formal phrasing, but nodded his head, pretending to give the matter a great deal of thought. "You know, Scully, that's certainly the best of the three options you've presented, but I think you've overlooked a possible fourth." 

She raised her eyebrows, looking genuinely curious. "What's that?"

He pulled her up so their faces were even and raised his head, bringing his mouth to her ear. "Revel in it," he whispered, and punctuated his suggestion with a gentle nip at her earlobe before lying his head back down.

"Revel?" she responded, her voice equally hushed. She looked at him, his face so close he could barely keep her in focus.

"Yep. Revel. Thanks to an extra beer or two, you did something that you've wanted to do for a very long time, have every intention of doing again, and the party involved feels exactly the same way. Also, it's Friday night, which means you've got a full forty-eight hours to celebrate, as well as talk about how you and the party involved are going to 'make things work going forward.'" He watched her face closely as she considered his words.

Slowly, her contemplative frown transformed into a feral smile. "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" He grinned up at her as he smoothed his palms over her hips and thighs. 

She lowered her head to his, stopping just before their lips touched. 

"Let's revel."

END


End file.
